After Life | Book 1 | After Life Page 33

  For a full minute, the only sound Michelle could hear was her own chewing. Finally, Lowensen spoke again. “You’re right,” he said. After another pause, he spoke again, moving more quickly this time, as though he had been bottling it up for some time. “I just don’t know any other way to be. Mr. Ehrens, I started gunning for this kind of job, teaching zombie basics, capitalizing on my own survival, twenty years ago. The minute I thought the zombies were gone for good, I started fantasizing, dreaming about the money I could make. I thought I’d get on reality TV, get a book, make a movie. Had no idea pop culture would just die. So I turned my attention to school. I was the first person—far as I know—to lobby for the school reopening. Thought I could capitalize that way.

  “And I would have,” he continued. “I’d have been a damn good teacher, if that’s all it had ever been. Think back to your best teachers, Mr. Ehrens. Was your favorite English teacher an author? I bet your gym teacher didn’t play pro baseball. Those that can’t do, right? I never thought the Z’s would come back. Never. And if they were never coming back, who cares if I make a few bucks off of it? I think you’ll agree that I was a good teacher, a good speaker. And I know math, English, science, everything else they’d need to be whole people. I just never thought they’d come back. Never thought that.”

  “Well,” Andy said, clearly unimpressed, “they did come back, Mr. Lowensen. So I’m sorry your dreams didn’t come true, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stick to being honest and straightforward in conversation, instead of trying to claim every bit of glory and impressiveness you can.”

  At this Michelle, spared a look at the interaction, to see how Lowensen might respond to his dressing-down. The teacher looked suitably abashed, and nodded to Andy. “I can do that,” he said. “I really am sorry. All I was trying to do was make the best of my own situation, Mr. Ehrens. Isn’t that what we all do?”

  “We do,” Andy said, nodding. “But we don’t do it at the expense of others. Hundreds of others. Most of us don’t do that.”

  Chapter Four: God Willing

  His food gone, standing farther from the group than anyone else, Donnie was left alone with his thoughts. It was his first time, other than a brief pee break while Michelle battled the guards in Buzzards Bay, that Donnie had been anything resembling alone since everything had started. He had spent every minute within a few feet of Michelle and/or Salvisa, and he relished the moment to wander even a few yards afield.

  Salvisa. Peter Salvisa had spent the last twenty years being admired, deified for his role in unifying the population, creating an internet support group. He was an idol to everyone, and a confidant to the most powerful people Donnie knew—Lambert, for one, and several others. But as it turned out, Salvisa was one of the worst people out there; he had kept his role in everything under wraps since—well, Donnie didn’t know exactly how long. It had apparently been since earlier than 2000, based on his Y2K comments, but Donnie had no way of knowing when Salvisa had started to work against the public.

  Though it was shallow, that sort of thing was another reason Donnie had come to decide against the idea of a god so many years ago. He knew that there was more to any god that might be out there than allowing bad people to rise in the world, but he couldn’t shake the idea that no god would allow someone like Salvisa to be as successful as he was. It was patently unfair and, while Donnie knew that no god had to be perfectly fair, he couldn’t rectify in his mind any god that would allow Salvisa to succeed as he had.

  Had he, though? Donnie suddenly realized, in the wake of Salvisa’s death, the old man hadn’t actually been allowed to succeed at anything. While Donnie still preferred his “shit happens, there’s no grand overseer” viewpoint, he realized that Salvisa had met his retribution, and in perhaps the most symbolically fitting way possible—killed by the very creatures he had introduced to the world. And it had happened just in time to save Donnie and Michelle from certain death. If there was a god, and he was the one who had sent that crippled Z to attack Salvisa, Donnie at least respected his sense of balance. Or irony.

  At present, though, Donnie had already devoted more time to the thought than he should have—his food was gone, and a glance behind him revealed that his compatriots’ meals were completed as well. It was time for them to go.

  On the other side of the group, Andy was coming to the same decision. Other than them, there was no movement in the area, but he didn’t feel like hoping that would hold true. He returned his food and water to his car and slammed the trunk closed. “Okay,” he said, facing his group. “Donnie and Michelle, you both know where this Wal-Mart is, yes?” At their nods, he continued. “Okay, then, if it’s all the same to you folks, I’d like to have one of you in each car, in case something crazy happens. And I’ll be damned if I split Stacy from her stepmother again. So I’d like to proceed with Donnie, Simon and my daughter in my car, and Brandon, Stacy and Mr. Lowensen traveling with Michelle.”

  Donnie nodded. While he hated to be separated from Michelle, he couldn’t argue with Andy’s suggestion—they needed to spread the knowledge to both cars, and there was no better way than what he proposed. And, Donnie reckoned, they couldn’t be more than five miles or so from the Wal-Mart. They were in cars, they were well-armed—if he had to be separated from Michelle, there could scarcely be a better way to do it.

  That decided, the group wordlessly moved to their vehicles. Michelle, Donnie noticed, made sure she held onto Salvisa’s pack and the contents therein.

  Though he had suggested Donnie ride in his car, Andy was determined to be the driver, if only because he hadn’t been the one to drive them to the school and had felt ill at ease sitting anywhere but in the driver’s seat of his own car. Donnie climbed into the passenger seat, and Celia and Simon sat in the back. After a second in the car, Andy noticed Simon was sliding toward the middle of the backseat, closer to his daughter. Seconds later, he noticed his daughter scooting as well, the two meeting in the middle. Their hands met and clasped, their fingers interlocked, and the two seemed comfortable.

  Outside their car, Andy saw as Michelle and her crew navigated their car toward the exit of the lot. He fell in line behind them just as Donnie spoke.

  “Wouldn’t it be something if the ones we just killed were the last ones we had to worry about?” he said. “You guys got the ones down in the school building, we got the ones a few blocks from here. It’d be crazy if there weren’t any more around.”

  Andy nodded. He had had similar thoughts, both earlier today and in 2010. Any time he found himself in an area with only living souls, he had mused that perhaps there was nothing else to worry about, no more Z’s out there to cause problems. And he had been proven wrong, time and again.

  “It would be nice,” he said, “but until I get some official word, I’m not likely to decide we’re safe, just because it’s a little quiet out there.”

  As if on cue, as they exited the parking lot and turned right, Donnie saw, to the left, a small herd of zombies turn the corner and start after them. They were a motley crew, all injured and only moving because their zombie brain said to. He didn’t know the cause of their injuries, but this was not a group that was likely to overwhelm them.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Donnie said, not sure if any other occupants of the car had noticed the minimal threat that was limping along in their wake. “I don’t suppose we can assume we’re safe. But it certainly is nice to hope they’re gone.”

  “And,” Andy said, his eyes straight forward and unblinking, “maybe we’re lucky. Maybe they are. God willing.”

  Chapter Five: Killing Their Way To Safety

  Their drive proceeded uneventfully. Michelle had noticed a few Z’s along the way—a small group outside Morgan College, plus the occasional straggler here and there on the road to the Wal-Mart—but none that posed any kind of threat to them, so she continued along their path.

  That luck wouldn’t continue, she knew. She had no idea how many zombies this group had killed,
or how many there had been to begin with, but she knew that she couldn’t assume they had been successful killing their way to safety. If nothing else, the stragglers and the Morgan College crew would follow. Slowly, sure, but those Z’s would be along soon enough, and they would certainly have reinforcements.

  A zombie war wasn’t a typical one in so many ways, but the primary one was that, in a zombie war, you couldn’t kill the majority and leave the rest to retreat. Were these human opponents, Michelle knew, they could eliminate something like 70%, and the rest would succumb. But even if every zombie but one was felled, that one and its teeth would be more than enough to start the whole attack over again. So, while the ride was smooth, Michelle did not feel inclined to relax, and neither, she could tell, did her passengers as she drove.

  Twice, she nearly made a wrong turn as she tried to remember the path she needed to follow. Donnie had been driving upon their arrival in Hyannis, and their car hadn’t even made it all the way to the school, so Michelle had to think hard to remember the correct route. As it was, she made one wrong move, but it was merely a time when she should have made a turn and didn’t, and she corrected for it at the next road and didn’t think anyone who didn’t know better would even realize her mistake. Other than that, though, Michelle couldn’t have asked for a smoother journey to the former Wal-Mart.

  She stopped the car a couple of blocks away from the building, just shy of when they would be able to see its grounds. Andy stopped his car just behind, and the group, save the injured Brandon, climbed out of the cars, careful not to slam any doors as they did. Andy already had his weapon in his hand, and moved to his trunk, which he opened and started digging through.

  “What are you looking for?” Michelle asked, keeping her voice low.

  Andy didn’t answer for a minute. He shoved aside his case of water and reached deeper into the trunk. Finally, he righted himself, answering Michelle’s question by pocketing two fresh clips and replacing the one in his gun. He handed a length of rope to Lowensen, which the teacher accepted quizzically before wrapping it around his arm. Andy also tucked a long, sheathed blade into his waistband.

  “What are we going to do?” Lowensen asked after Andy gently lowered his trunk.

  Andy moved to the side of the car to look ahead toward the Wal-Mart. The other adults and Simon joined him, with Celia and Stacy hovering a few feet behind.

  “They’ll have someone out there to guard,” Andy said after a moment of pondering. “Two people. That’s the bad news. The good news, though, is that we crossed their paths so long ago. And it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes from here for people who know the area. Means that any guards on duty will be out there after some time inside, some time to become desensitized, some time to grow complacent. Any luck, they’ll be sitting around, playing cards, not paying enough attention. They’ve been on their own all night, they might truly think they’re safe.”

  “We need to be quiet, no matter how we do this,” Michelle said, thinking of the blades that at least three of them carried now. “Even if we can take the sentries out, it’s pointless if we do it loud enough to let the rest of them know we’re here.”

  Andy nodded. “My thoughts exactly,” he said. “So I suggest we go in light—just the three men.” Michelle started to speak, to complain against Andy’s sexism, but he waved her down. “No, you aren’t going. Seems you’ve already done your share of killing, and regardless, you’ve crossed three states to get to your daughter. Damned if I see the two of you reunite, only to send you to get killed ten minutes later.”

  Michelle nodded. Sexist or not, she hadn’t been excited to go, and so accepted the excuse not to do so. She pulled the knife from her waistband and passed it to Lowensen, who looked less than excited to be on the receiving end.

  “Now,” Andy said. “You all wait here. You hear any gunshots, you see any dead, you get in the car and drive. I don’t care where you go, you get the hell away from here and find somewhere else. That happens, it won’t matter what sort of clever plan we come up with, those men inside will be on us in seconds.”

  “Dad?” Celia said, finally moving forward to join the others. “Dad, are you sure you have to….”

  “I’m sure,” Andy said, much to Celia’s dismay. She knew he wouldn’t listen to her and stay, trusting the others to get the job done, but she hoped. “It’ll be okay, honey,” he said. “We’ll have them outnumbered, and we have the element of surprise. Don’t worry.”

  Celia nodded, knowing it was pointless to argue any further. Andy returned the nod, then repeated the gesture to Donnie and Lowensen, and the three turned to head off. Just before they got out of speaking distance, Andy and Donnie turned back. Donnie locked eyes with Michelle and gave her a quick nod, then a much less reassuring shrug. Andy, though, spoke to his daughter. “I’ll be careful,” he said, with a forced smile. “Remember the most annoying thing I tell you: You can’t be too careful. And I won’t be.”

  The men hurried off, speaking and planning too quietly for any of the rest to hear them. Just before they got out of sight, Celia saw them hurry off the road, ducking onto an overgrown sidewalk that did a much better job of hiding them. With that, the men were gone, and Celia and the others were left to worry and wonder.

  That didn’t sit well for more than a few seconds. Almost immediately, Simon started pacing across the road, his head always turned toward the Wal-Mart. Michelle and Stacy stood with each other, the elder with her arm around the younger’s waist, scared to let her go. Michelle’s other arm held a death grip on her backpack. The weight of the pack was pulling at Michelle’s arm and shoulder, but she seemed content to hold it and Stacy and wait. Celia, though, couldn’t move from her post, standing in the middle of the road with her arms crossed, hugging herself and looking at the last spot where she had been able to see her father.

  Her heartbeat accelerated as she stood by herself. Someone, she knew, needed to keep an eye to their rear, to watch in case any of the Z’s caught up to them, but she couldn’t come close to turning her attention away, and it didn’t look like Simon, Stacy or Michelle was going to fill that role either. Celia idly hoped Brandon was aware enough to monitor behind them, but she knew she was going to be of no help at all until either her father returned or she knew he wouldn’t.

  The minutes passed slowly. Celia was sure she had blinked several times as she stood there, but she couldn’t remember it. She was only aware of herself in the road, Simon pacing just ahead of her, and the abject lack of any people anywhere beyond him.

  After what had to have been fifteen minutes, far longer than Andy had forecast, Simon stopped pacing. He finally turned his attention away from the Wal-Mart direction and moved toward Celia.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice low. He positioned himself just ahead of Celia and to the left, staying in her line of sight but not blocking her view of the distance.

  Celia nodded absently. She knew that the fact that Simon had stopped pacing, had turned to her, meant that he expected the worst, but she couldn’t share his feelings, not while she had any choice in the matter.

  Though she didn’t look down, Celia suddenly felt Simon’s hand on her left arm. She unbound her arms and lowered the left, letting Simon’s hand run down it and to her hand, which he clasped in what were particularly sweaty palms. He stepped even closer to her, so that their bodies touched, and he held her hand tightly.

  Celia refused to look away from the same spot, but she felt her muscles relax at Simon’s touch, and was thankful he had stopped his pacing to come to her.

  They stood there for another minute or so. Celia felt her hope draining out of her as the seconds ticked by, and Simon’s grip on her hand only tightened and grew sweatier.

  Finally, though, Celia stepped forward, pulling Simon with her as she moved. Something had moved in the row of bushes, exactly where her father, her teacher and the new man had disappeared.

  A second later, a man, a stranger emerged from the bushes,
stumbling. Celia reached for her own weapon briefly, sure the man was either a zombie, an Army man or both, before she relaxed.

  Whoever this man was, he didn’t appear to be a threat, as his hands were bound behind his back, and blood smeared down the left side of his body as he stumbled. And, mere steps behind this man, Celia’s father came into view, joined seconds later by the other two. Lowensen, it seemed, was carrying at least two extra weapons.

  They appeared to be none the worse for wear from their encounter, though Celia could clearly see blood on her father’s pants. He walked healthily, though, so she hoped the blood wasn’t his own.

  The man with his hands bound, who was wearing olive drab clothing that matched what Celia thought the Army men from earlier were wearing, kept stumbling ahead of the others. When he got closer, she heard him griping.

  “You killed Murph,” he said, his tone accusatory. “Just… killed him. Killed him.”

  “We did,” Andy said, his voice hard. “Be glad it wasn’t you. Walk.”

  The man looked to be in his early 40s, though the wide-eyed look he wore might have led some to believe he was younger. He was woefully thin, his clothes draping his figure. Somehow, he had full cheekbones, the kind that might belong to a much heavier man, but everything else about him screamed malnutrition. He had close-cropped black hair that touched neither his ears nor his collar, and his face was more clean-shaven than any of the men in Celia’s group.

  As he drew nearer, Celia saw that his hands were bound by the length of rope her father had given to Mr. Lowensen.

  “You’ll kill me,” he said, his voice breathless. “Just like ya killed Murph. You’ll kill me.”

  “If we were going to do that, we would have already,” Andy said. The group was now within mere feet of the rest of them. “Just get to the cars and we’ll go from there.”